


covered in red

by parkjinchu



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Cutting, Depictions of Sex, Fluff and Angst, Graphic Description, M/M, Making Love, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 05:47:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13183620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkjinchu/pseuds/parkjinchu
Summary: his favourite colour was red, until i was covered in it.read tags for warning, graphic self-harm/suicide attempt. do not read if triggered/harmed by storythis is a work of fiction, and in no way represents the real lives of astro's members. in case of astro/fantagio/reasonable fan request, this fic will be taken downread full disclaimer on my profile





	covered in red

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE DONT READ THIS FIC IF ITS TOO MUCH... i dont know how i happened to write it auhfiub but anyway  
> a little messy and not edited very well so im not promoting it anywhere. if you happen to read it, thats cool, id love feedback :)

_Red._

_His favourite colour was red._

_He adored the colour red, until I was covered in it._

 

-

 

Moon Bin lived in shades of red; sweet, gentle romance.

“What’s your favourite colour?” Dongmin had asked one night. They’re tucked against the window, listening to the rough patter of rain, watching the storm outside swirl around them. Bin is swallowed up by a thick jumper, one of Dongmin’s own that he’d found in the back of his closet.

He hums, pursing his lips. One of Dongmin’s hands is in his own, smoothed between his fingers. A crack of thunder shakes the house, sending a jolt through Dongmin. The other boy winces, shuffling closer to him and hiding him from the storm under his arms. Their bodies mould together, Dongmin bending to adjust to Bin’s shape.

“My favourite colour?” He asks, turning Dongmin’s head away from the window. They’re so close, Dongmin can spot the spaces between his lashes, can see each delicate thread of colour in Bin’s eyes. With his lips, he presses a dainty kiss between Dongmin’s brows. He hums again, threading his fingers through the other boy’s thick, black head of hair.

He is careful, gentle. He is patient. Despite anything – and everything – he cares for Dongmin. Without regrets, without excuses, without apologies, Bin is always there. An empty feeling in his stomach, that can never be filled; Dongmin despises himself for it.

“Red.”

He answers firmly, characteristic of himself. Bin held himself up, always had his head above the water, and could hold Dongmin up enough that his nose could poke out of the depths. He was always steady on his two feet, always sure in his movements and in his decisions. The exact opposite of Dongmin.

“Red? Why?”

“Because of you.”

Dongmin remains silent.

“You remind me of the colour red!” Bin smiles, eyes wide. He looks proud of himself, a little giddy with honour.

Dongmin presses himself further into Bin’s side, as another clap of thunder sounds throughout the house. The lights flicker a moment, and the arm around his side squeezes him closer. He can feel Bin’s heartbeat against his fingertips, sixty-seven beats a minute, he’d counted once. “How?” he whispers, watching the way his breath ghosts over Bin’s neck, leaving goose-bumps in its wake.

“Love is the colour red, right?” Bin smiles, pressing a kiss to his hairline. It tingles, almost feels as if it’s still there, long after his lips have left and he continues to talk. “Of passion, too… Your lips are very dark pink. When we kiss, your cheeks go red… Oh, just like now,” he teases, taking the hot plush of Dongmin’s cheek between his fingers and tugging lightly.

Dongmin coils away from Bin’s touch, tucking his face into his neck.

Bin chuckles softly to himself, twirling strands of Dongmin’s dark hair around his fingers. “I love you, so much,” he whispers, bringing Dongmin’s hand to his lips, pressing a feather-light kiss there.

Dongmin wonders when that will make sense to him.

 

-

 

Moon Bin lived in shades of red; forceful, raging passion.

He is smooth and fluid, strong and sturdy. Dongmin is pinned beneath him, as Bin fills him – with words of love, and with his own body. He is hot and encompassing, like a setting sun, as he hovers over his lover whilst they make love.

Their bodies writhe together, absorbed completely in pleasure, every nerve ending in their bodies sparkling. The sounds are delectable; guttural moans, whispered sweet-nothings, the wet slap of skin meeting skin.

 _This is true love_ , Dongmin reminds himself. Bin’s hand dances over his skin, his lips following the trail they lead. _He loves me_ , Dongmin reminds himself. He knows this, why can’t he understand it?

Bin collects Dongmin’s lips in his own, wet and sloppy but passionate and filled with emotion.

 _I hate myself_ , Dongmin thinks.

They are hot, flushed and burning bodies, that meet in the centre, as they become one. Dongmin is reminded of red, of Bin’s favourite colour, the colour of love.

They finish together. Bin cleans them up, and falls asleep with Dongmin splayed over his chest, spent.

Dongmin lay awake, thinking. Moon Bin is too nice, too giving, too loyal. He shouldn’t have to put up with Dongmin. He shouldn’t have to deal with his messes. How could he love Dongmin? He himself saw no plausible explanation for Bin’s feelings.

He stares at the boy, whispers into the dead of night, _I’m sorry_.

 

-

 

Moon Bin loved in shades of red; hot, fiery anger.

 _I hate myself_ , Dongmin thinks. _He’s better off without me, right?_

His reflection is tired, strained, weak. He can’t bear to look at himself, with puffy red-rimmed eyes. Bin is in the kitchen, cooking his favourite meal ( _“You had a bad day? How about I make your favourite, will that make up for it?”_ ). Dongmin, he reckons of himself, is a burden.

“He’ll be happier without you,” he whispers to himself. He can hear Bin singing aloud as he cooks.

 _Would he notice?_ Dongmin wonders, as the blade of the knife catches the light on the ceiling, as he twists it in his hand. _Would he notice that I took his kitchen knife?_

Dongmin brings the blade to his wrist, gives it an experimental prick. His eyes tear up and he winces harshly at the pain that sears though his hand. A droplet of blood pearls over his tan skin, but doesn’t fall. It’s a vibrant red, glistening under the bathroom light. He pushes his finger in it, smooths the blood down his arm. It follows without resistance, not stopping until it runs out, like ink.

 _“My favourite colour? Red.”_ Dongmin draws the knife up, settles the blade over his wrist and drags it across the expanse of his skin. Immediately, blood dribbles over the knife, a brilliant red that slithers down his arm, too. _“You remind me of the colour red!”_ There’s a sizzling pain that zig-zags up and down his arm.

He lifts the knife again, creates another carving beneath the first. He feels lightheaded, watching his life drain out of his wrists in a brilliant red. _That’s what Bin liked, anyway. It’s for the better._

It becomes addicting. Blood collects in the bend of his elbow, pools there before sliding out and onto his jeans. Experimentally, he swaps the knife over in his shaking hands, goes for a slice in his other wrist. It’s a shivering cut, a little wobbly.

“Minnie?” Bin calls from the kitchen. Dongmin feels his heart stop for a moment, before beating hurriedly, to catch up again. He stops the knife on his wrist, feels his lip tremble. “Dinner’s ready!”

A wave of calm rolls over him, at the sound of Bin’s voice. So innocent, so blissfully unaware. There’s blood splashed on the tiles of the bathroom floor. Dongmin takes in a sharp breath, feels tears spill over his eyes. _Am I losing my mind?_ He wonders.

“Min?” Bin calls again, coming closer to the bathroom.

Dongmin drops the knife to the floor, it lands with a loud, metallic clatter. “I’ll… I’ll be out in a minute!” He replies, voice quivering.

“Min, darling? Are you okay?” Bin asks, tries to twist the door handle. It’s locked.

“Don’t come in!” Dongmin screams, watching more blood trickle out of his wrists and down his arms. His jeans are splattered with dark, red dots.

Bin tries the door handle again, “Dongmin, what’s happening?” He asks, voice hurried with oncoming panic.

Dongmin shuffles around the bathroom, but his limbs feel weak and heavy. The door rattles as Bin tries to open it. A sob wells up from the pit of his stomach and bursts out of him, “Binnie,” he cries, sniffling, trying to wipe the blood from his arms. “Binnie, help me!”

The door slams as Bin forces his weight against it. “Dongmin, what’s wrong?” He asks, pushing on the door again.

“Help me!” Dongmin screams, dizzied. He slips back to the floor, his legs giving up. How had he gone through with this? What had possessed him, momentarily?

Bin is muttering things to himself, as he pushes on the door again and again, trying to break past the lock, but Dongmin can’t hear him over his sobs. The floor is glistening red. Suddenly, the lock is broken and the door flies open with a horrific slam. Dongmin stares up at Bin’s figure.

“Holy shit,” Bin whimpers, falling to his knees. His eyes instantly well up. He crawls a little closer. “Fuck. _Fuck_ ,” he whispers, taking Dongmin’s wrists in his hands with the utmost delicacy. He examines the blood spilling down his arms, his discarded kitchen knife, the floors painted red. His favourite colour.

“I’m sorry, Binnie, I’m sorry!” Dongmin sobs, falling into Bin’s chest with a weak slump.

“I have to call an ambulance,” Bin says, rising to his feet with a stumble, and racing out the door. Dongmin can hear him reciting his appearance over the line. He hurries back into the room, mobile on and in his hand. Slowly, he lowers himself back into the small pool of blood on the floor. He doesn’t assure Dongmin it’s okay – because it’s not. “Why?”

Dongmin stills, unsure of how to answer. He lifts a shaky hand to wipe at Bin’s eyes, but ends up smearing blood on his cheek. He chokes on nothing. “Red’s your favourite colour,” he murmurs. He watches in silence as Bin’s face coils inward as he sobs, bringing Dongmin closer to him.

“No, no, no,” Bin whimpers, rubbing at his back. “No, I love you so much, why did you do this? Please, don’t tell me it was my fault,” he cries.

Dongmin shakes his head. “It wasn’t your fault, I promise.”

 _“Sir?”_ The phone says, _“An ambulance is on its way.”_

“How can you love someone like me?” Dongmin asks, as Bin holds his open wrists in his two hands. He’s shaking violently, they both are. Bin looks lost, shocked, traumatised.

“This doesn’t change the beautiful person you are,” Bin whispers, thumb running over the unharmed skin on his hands.

There are sirens outside. Dongmin feels dizzy. “I just wanted to make you happy.”

**Author's Note:**

> feedback always welcome!! you can comment below, or find me on tumblr and twitter under the handle @parkjinchu (for both)


End file.
